There’s the story of the old violin,
Badly beaten and bruised throughout the years,
Viewed as a completely destroyed has-been,
Expected as an assault on the ears.
Worth not even a penny at auction,
Until a musician played a sweet piece,
And touched everyone’s hearts by the action,
Raising its value to the Golden Fleece.
So too does the Great Jesus know your worth,
When you think yourself a poor, broken soul.
Indeed, this is the reason for His birth:
To deliver you from Satan’s bleak hole.
Look through the lens of our dear Savior’s love,
To feel closer to that heaven above.
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 9:59 AM UTC
There’s the story of the old violin,
Badly beaten and bruised throughout the years,
Viewed as a completely destroyed has-been,
Expected as an assault on the ears.
Worth not even a penny at auction,
Until a musician played a sweet piece,
And touched everyone’s hearts by the action,
Raising its value to the Golden Fleece.
So too does the Great Jesus know your worth,
When you think yourself a poor, broken soul.
Indeed, this is the reason for His birth:
To deliver you from Satan’s bleak hole.
Look through the lens of our dear Savior’s love,
To feel closer to that heaven above.
English sonnet form adapted from "The Touch of the Master's Hand" by Myra Brooks Welch.
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